Beginnings.

Climbing out of her bunk, Bella pulls up her jeans with one hand and scratches the base of her jaw with the other, stumbling out into the lounge are, sleep still dusting her eyes. Flopping on the couch, it's only then that she notices Michael sitting on the breakfast table, eyeing her.

“What’er you lookin’ at?” She grunts, rubbing her eyes.

Michael just shakes his head and looks back down at the food sitting in front of him. He’s suddenly lost his appetite, only craving the one thing he thinks he’ll never get.

They both sit silently, occasionally glancing at each other.

“Oh please! If you’re gonna do it, then just do it already!” Bella yells, throwing her hands above her head

Michael is taken back by this, staring at Bella wide-eyed, “D...d...do what?” he stutters, shrinking into himself.

Bella groans, and the very sound along causes a warming in not only Michael’s face, but also the pit of his stomach, mentally slapping himself for the images he let slip into his mind.

And then faster than Michael can even comprehend, Bella has taken five giants strides to the table, standing in front on Michael. She pulls Michael up from the table by his shirt collar, and curls a shaky hand around the back of Michael's neck, feels the sticky cold sweat there and raises an eyebrow. Leaning in, she kisses the boy harshly, all teeth and tongue and no warning whatsoever.

“Am I always gonna have to make the first move?” Bella says, pulling away. Her breathing is heavy, and there's traces of Michael's saliva sparkling on her lips, and that fucking grin is there, that fucking grin that makes Michael weak in the knees

Michael recalls the beginning of their friendship. How Bella had to strike up a conversation that Michael was to nervous to even consider starting.

“I guess so,” Michael says, a smile playing across his lips.

And somehow Bella’s mouth is on Michael's again.

It's all hot breaths and sharp teeth scraping across lips and tongues fucking each other's mouths. All this held back passion that both think the other was never capable of. It's all fumbles and nervous touches and whispered moans of fuck Michael just fucking do it already.

And the next morning, nothing's changed.

Because, that, that was all just the beginning.